Why: Look who's barking
by Lilian
Summary: Why do things happened the way they did?. What were Phoebe & Cole thinking when they confronted each other?. Questions the episode never answered... but hey, that's what fanfiction's for!


** Why: Look who's Barking **  
  
by Lilian  
  
lilian413@yahoo.com  
  
AN: Okay, first ever Charmed fic. It's a possible explanation on why things happened the way they did in that wonderful episode of 'Look who's barking'. It still strikes me deep everytime I watch that episode. And I felt like there were one too many things left unexplained. And since no one seemed interested in explaining them, I just decided to do it myself.   
  
Tell me what you think!.   
  
  
*****************  
  
  
  
She could always feel him coming. Time and time again, the air seemed to sizzle around her whenever he came. She sometimes wondered whether anyone else could feel it--- the sudden rise in  
her body heat, the way her heart beat sped up, her heavy breathing--- it seemed they were oblivious to it.   
  
Big news.   
  
Phoebe could swear if glares could kill, Cole would've been six feet under (or wherever demons went when they were vanquished) a long time ago. She knew, and understood how Piper and Prue seemed to refuse to accept their relationship.   
  
As if somehow, by ignoring it, it would dissappear. Like a cricket in an empty room--- ignore it for a while, and soon you won't even notice it's cricking.   
  
Sadly for them, Cole was much more than a cricket to Phoebe.   
  
More in the terms of soul mate, really.   
  
As bizarre as it may sound, Phoebe was sure Cole was her soul mate. Sure, they had this 'doggy-eyed-star-crossed-lovers' thing going on (actually, more in the terms of 'making-out-whenever he had the decency to appear' thing), much more so that Piper and Leo. That on itself was a major indicator of true love.   
  
But that wasn't what made Phoebe sigh whenever she thought of him.   
  
It was--- well, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. To her, it was torture. Pure, painful torture. No matter how short their time apart was, it hurt. Bad.   
  
Missing him was like a disease. A chronic one.   
  
The pain was always there.   
  
Dulled by companionship, fueled by loneliness.   
  
And then he had killed a witch. And Phoebe had felt as if he had killed *her*. It could have been her, for God's sake!. Trapped behind the door of the attic, she had watched helplessly as Cole battled his demons--- both on the inside and the outside. His beautiful face, twisted in pain, and doubt and struggle... it had broken her heart. And it had broken again, when he had screamed and threw the energy ball. Jenna was unconscious on the floor.   
  
She never knew what hit her.   
  
That did not make things easier for Phoebe. She had brought her into the manor, hoping to protect her. Jenna had trusted them, she had believed in them!. She truly believed the Charmed Ones would protect her. And they had failed.   
  
Raynor and Cole had slipped into the house unnoticed. Just like that. As if they owned the stupid place.   
  
Gods, they should've never left her alone!!.   
  
Guilt accumulated. Pain soared within her. Doubt was splitting her in half.   
  
Half of her hated him, for killing Jenna. For spitting onto everything she had ever held dear... including their love. For betraying her. For breaking her heart. And for giving in.   
  
The other half still loved him. Even after all he had done. Phoebe was one to understand running--- she had been running for years before she came back to the Halliwell Manor. Running from her sisters, running from Gram's, running from herself. She knew Cole carried a burden as heavy as hers. Even more so. There were times in which his guard would come down, and he would tell her of his past.   
  
Only the true belief that he had changed had kept her from bolting.   
  
But his eyes--- his eyes were haunted, and troubled, when he had reached out to her. Blind and unseeing, unbelieving of what he had done. Yet the burnt mark of the old carpet, and the unmistakable smell of scorched flesh in the air were telltale signs that it had not been a dream.   
  
'Phoebe, help me'.   
  
That had been the message. She had received it. And she had ignored it. Just like he had spat their love. Anger and betrayal took hold on her, and she said things she did not remember... she had lashed out at him, when all he needed was a tender hand to soothe him.   
  
She had broken him in ways he had never been broken before.   
  
She had kicked him while he was down, and there was nothing she could do to take it back. Things were said, and even worse things were done--- she had destroyed the potion, the potion for which *he* had asked. Gods, he *wanted* out!.   
  
Why couldn't they let him go?.   
  
Demon after demon came after him, all wanting his head. He had managed to stay alive. For her. Only for her. And she had rejected him.   
  
Maybe she deserved what happened to her.   
  
Bigtime.   
  
She had turned into a Banshee. She had turned into a demon. Actually, she had *been* turned into a demon. But she had given the Banshee access to her heart. She had been the one grieving so hard, the screamer hadn't had any difficulty whatsoever tracking her.   
  
Hell, she was probably wearing a huge neon sign reading: 'Charmed One in pain. Get in line to kick my ass'.   
  
While up in the attic, she had felt the Banshee coming. She had known it was coming for her long before the glasses began shaking. The second it had burst through the windows, she had surrendered.   
  
Maybe, if you were a demon, being heartbroken wouldn't hurt as much. Did demons even have a heart, anyway?.  
  
That's why she had laid there, on the floor, letting the Banshee scream her head off over her. She could've levitated, fought, even screamed for Piper--- she had embraced the magic, dark and seductive and welcoming--- just as Cole had been.   
  
Everything ended up in Cole, one way or the other.   
  
One of the first things she had learnt about magic, was that no magic in the world could make  
you do something you didn't want to. Magic wasn't made to force--- only to bend. It grasped the  
idea floating in the back of your head, and brought it forward in full force, forcing you to acknowledge it. Embrace it. Accept it.   
  
Do it.   
  
As she took in slow breaths, feeling the old rug under her back, and staring into the cracks of the ceiling, she could feel the scream piercing her ears.   
  
She barely realized the screaming had stopped, that Piper had somehow killed the Banshee--- she was too busy rejoicing in the new feeling of emptiness taking hold of her heart.  
  
For weeks, she had carried a hole in her heart. A big, gaping wound, which sometimes made it hard to breathe. The pain had become a constant in her life--- but now...  
  
And then the pain wasn't so hard.   
  
And then it wasn't there at all.   
  
She had turned her head away, in the universal gesture of surrender, and had seen Piper and Leo, standing above her, terrified... she had tried to smile, to tell them not to worry--- she couldn't utter a sound.  
  
The change was taking place, her human body receding, demonic features stepping forward.   
Her mouth was no longer designed for human words... only cries of pain.   
  
Her last conscious thought, was that maybe she wouldn't look too good with white hair--- were Banshees even allowed to go to the hair stylist?....  
  
  
************************  
  
  
She came to sometime (minutes, hours, days?) later. She was in a parking lot, stalking/following/watching a young woman... she couldn't even remember how she had gotten  
there. Things were a blur inside her head--- but she somehow knew that this woman was tasty.  
  
Why was she so drawn to her?. Why did she want to hurt her, just like she was hurting right now?.   
  
There was this little voice in the back of her head, telling her to kill her. It would feel better afterwards, it promised. It will make the pain go away, it whispered, in seductive tones.  
She believed it. She truly did.   
  
Why would demons kill if it wasn't enjoyable?.   
  
Part of her wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. To feel the life draining out of her, watch as  
her blood vessels exploded, as her lungs filled with her own blood, and she drowned in it. To see   
her eyes die, to watch her life seep away---  
  
The other part was quieter. The one that was still a Charmed One, sworn to protect the innocents.  
The inner witch was silent, as if struck speechless... Phoebe had had her doubts about their   
heritage, just like her sisters. She just wasn't as vocal as they were.   
  
The witch saw in this an opportunity to escape. A few seconds of pain, worth a million years of oblivion. Of ignorance--- she knew that the second she killed anyone, her powers would be stripped off her, and sent onto another unsuspecting young girl/woman, and *her* life would be turned upside down.   
  
No more worrying about what they might say. About what the Elders might think.   
  
No more Ms. Goody-shoes Halliwell.   
  
Strangely, it was the human side of her that saved that woman's life. The Phoebe Halliwell inside her screamed when she saw her in the arms of her lover--- just as she had so wished to be. That woman was loved. She had someone to call her own.   
  
She had had that too.   
  
Until magic had come in between, and screwed up everything. *Again*.  
  
That's why she ran. She fled before she could change her mind.   
  
She would not cause more pain. She had survived a broken heart, and was still bleeding from it. She would not cause anyone that kind of pain. Ever.   
  
As she ran, and hid behind a wall, her heart broke just a little bit more--- some humanity  
still remained within the ragged clothes of the Banshee, and it cried. And suffered.   
  
'Cole'  
  
She howled into the night, trying to forget...  
  
  
*************************  
  
  
"Piper. Not the sister I was expecting".   
  
Cole's voice had always had this sexy ring to it. Piper had to grant him that. And he pulled this 'tall, mysterious, dark and handsome' thing extremely well. She could even understand why Phoebe had fallen for him in the first place.   
  
That didn't prevent her from being scared out of her mind.   
  
Never once, in all the times they had confronted each other, had Cole's eyes been so--- lost.   
  
He looked almost feverish.   
  
Desperate.   
  
His eyes mirrored Phoebe's, before disappointment had settled in.   
  
And that was most definitely not a good sign. Could demons turn into Banshees?.  
  
"We need your help".  
  
He seemed surprised. No, scratch that. Not surprised. Amused. Amused that the 'oh-so-powerful'  
witches needed the help of a lost soul like him.   
  
Piper did not have the strength to erase the smirk off his face. She had lost two sisters in one night--- she would not loose herself.   
  
"Sorry, I don't do good anymore".   
  
Why did Piper feel that was meant to convince himself as much as to convince her?. Cole had always walked a thin line--- repressing his human side for decades, and then trying to bring it back for the single person who trusted him enough to ask--- Gosh, love was *indeed* a bitch!.   
  
"Phoebe has turned into a Banshee".   
  
She felt weak admitting it to Cole, a demon from the deepest corners of hell. Although she had to admit she couldn't help but feel sorry for him... she was the middle sister, and middle siblings always chose compassion.   
  
"A Banshee?. That's new".   
  
On the other hand, Cole was having a hard time keeping the facade up. It hurt. It hurt a lot. His Phoebe, his lovely Phoebe had been tainted. Corrupted.   
  
Yet, the demon inside of him, rejoiced in this turn of events. Let the witch suffer, it whispered in the back of his head. She deserves it.   
  
He had to suppress the urge to lash out at Piper, to hurt her for letting Phoebe get in harm's way.   
  
But he contained himself.   
  
Barely.   
  
His mind was pretty much anywhere but there as he talked to her. This house--- there was a time in which he had been welcome into this house. Into Phoebe's heart. He had found family... and he had blown it all away, because of one stupid mistake.   
  
Damn Raynor and his mind melding.   
  
He had fucked up his life more than it already was. He had destroyed that one thing he had come to cherish in his one-hundred-and-something years of life.   
  
Love.   
  
Phoebe.   
  
Jesus, even thinking her name hurt. His heart cried out for her, demanded for her to be near...  
looked for her in every corner, smelt her in every scent. It was like a drug... he needed her to survive!.   
  
He wanted nothing more than to take his heart out, and destroy it, hoping the pain would go away with that. Hoping against hope that he would forget. Hell, he had even tried magic!.   
  
But it hadn't worked. It would never work. Because in order for it to work, he would have to *really* want it to. And deep down inside, as much as he tried to repress it, his love still burnt high.   
  
A faint bark echoed in the distance.   
  
He frowned.   
  
Had the Halliwell's gotten a dog?. Didn't they already own a cat?.  
  
It sounded closer now.   
  
A white dog scampered in, through one of the ever-open doors... didn't this women ever think about security?. He could swear he had never seen any of them even try to lock the front door...  
  
Before he could carry down through that train of thought, the house began shaking.   
  
The china began clinking.   
  
And he *had* to ask, even if he already knew the answer. Because Phoebe was coming--- his body ached for her touch, his eyes begged for her sight, his heart cried for her love. The air was changing, his heartbeat was quickening...  
  
"What's going on?".  
  
Piper's quiet reply was only a confirmation.   
  
"Phoebe's home".   
  
And before he had a chance to blink, something slammed onto him, knocking him down.   
  
Without even looking, Cole knew it was her. It was *her*.   
  
Her scent was everywhere, around him, choking him... it smelled like vanilla and Phoebe, like apples and Phoebe...   
  
{Phoebe}  
  
Yet he could only hold onto her for so long, for she lashed out, and slammed his head onto the hard floor. Through hazy eyes, he saw her.   
  
And yet, it wasn't her.   
  
White hair, white skin--- ruby red lips, hazel eyes--- her teeth flickered under the lights, and his heart froze.   
  
Fangs. She had fangs.   
  
Banshee fangs.   
  
And she howled.   
  
His ears weren't made for that. Aside from great strength, the howl was the Banshee's only weapon. So, they had perfected it during the course of the centuries... there were few demons capable of resisting a Banshee's cry.   
  
Belthazor was not one of them.   
  
Pain, there was pain--- his head was burning, his ears were about to explode... and yet he would die a happy hybrid right there, with Phoebe perched atop of him. Without even thinking about it, his hands grabbed her wrists tightly, and pulled her to him. In a glimpse, they were gone, shimmered away.   
  
As their molecules dissolved to reappear somewhere else, Cole only hoped the Halliwell's would forgive him...  
  
  
*************************  
  
  
  
The instant they reappeared back at the mausoleum (what was it about that place anyway?. He  
always ended back in here, sooner or later), Phoebe attacked.   
  
It was easy for her to throw him over her shoulder--- even as a witch, she had been strong.   
Her kickboxing lessons had paid off. And now, adding the Banshee's preternatural strength,  
Belthazor found himself flat against a tombstone, trying to catch his breath.   
  
He cursed under his breath, both at the insanity of the situation, and the bad timing of   
his libido, which kept sending this erotic mental images of what Phoebe could do now that  
her mortal qualms were gone.   
  
Boys will be boys, he thought. Even half-boys and half demons will always be *male*.   
  
Besides, he liked his women strong.   
  
He charged again, trying to grab her, trying to hold her still--- trying to touch her in   
any way he could.   
  
Hey, a man's got to have his knickers once in a while, you know?.   
  
Empty, lonely nights spent in the shower, relieving himself just with the thought of her---  
God, Phoebe had spoiled him bad!. He had even stopped looking at other women altogether... every time he did, he kept comparing them to her, and they never even got close.   
  
Phoebe-Banshee had other plans though.   
  
Demon minds work different than human's. You see, humans tend to be overly logical. You know, to  
analyze the situation, and try and make the best of it. The rolled with the punches, and   
tried to adapt to whatever new conditions were presented to them.   
  
Demons--- well, demons are a whole another story.   
  
Demons, as contradictory as it maybe, are pure emotion. Sure, most of the times it is  
anger/lust/vengeance/insert-your-favorite-here, but they tend to think with their hearts.   
Once the feeling has rooted itself in them, there is little to no possibility of ever getting it out.   
  
Phoebe was mad.   
  
Angered beyond her imagination.   
  
Sure, she couldn't quite remember *why* she was so mad, but she was certain that it had a lot  
to do with Belthazor. As I said, demons don't think much. They act.   
  
And so she did.   
  
Sadly for her, Belthazor was only half demon. So, he *did* have a logical mind to help him. And he used it. The second he had Phoebe pinned under him, he reached for her mouth, and covered it,   
muffling her screams.   
  
Out of reflex, she bit his hand. The red skin parted under her fangs, and she tasted his blood.   
His red, half-human blood-- Belthazor hissed in pain, and retracted his limb.   
  
Phoebe took her chance, and screamed.   
  
Hard.   
  
A flame of victory ignited in her still heart, as his hands now flew to his ears, trying to   
cover them---  
  
flame soon extinguished, as his own eyes flashed in anger, and his long fingers clawed her   
throat.  
  
Belthazor wasn't thinking very well.   
  
All his male libido could grasp, was that Phoebe was writhing under him. Certain parts of his  
anatomy began swelling, and he only squeezed harder at the thought of it.   
  
What a time to get a hard-on.   
  
Blood was exiting his brain, and heading south, leaving him with little fuel to think on--- which was bad, since it was Phoebe he was choking to death.  
  
He need not worry though... she had her own skills to relay on. One good kick onto his back, and he went flying again.   
  
Damn this woman!. He was so distracted trying to control himself when she was around, his fighting abilities all but deserted him!. He should've seen that one coming!.   
  
The hard impact against the tombstone did serve for one thing though... he got his bearings back. Only then did he realize he had morphed into Belthazor. Great move, considering his demonic form had the tendency to upset Phoebe altogether...  
  
Breathing deeply, and trying to get a hold of himself, he willed his human form to come forth. It was hard, with him being so overexcited and all... but he managed.   
  
He gasped for breath, and tried to speak.   
  
He knew he was risking a lot by changing back--- though strong, his human half couldn't put up a fight with a Banshee. Yet the second he had changed, Phoebe had stopped, and was staring at him with her wide gray eyes locked on his features.   
  
He knew that deep inside, Phoebe was still there somewhere--- he just had to reach her.   
  
"Damnit, Phoebe!. I love you...".   
  
His voice came out in pants, as the room grew dank and suffocating... here he was, admitting his love for her, when he had spent the past weeks trying to get rid of it!. It had just come out. His brain disconnected itself from his mouth, and his heart took over.   
  
For a split second, he thought Phoebe had not heard. She was still, deadly still, unmoving...  
was she far too gone to be reached?.   
  
But then she threw her head back, and howled. And this time it was different. It wasn't the howl of a Banshee--- it was the desperate cry of a broken heart.   
  
He watched mesmerized as she changed, Banshee features blurring, and his beloved's surging forward. Yet, her eyes remained cold. Angry.   
  
And it hurt him. Deep. He was happy she was back, that *he* had been the one to bring her back. And right now, he also loathed himself, because he knew Phoebe had changed because of him in the first place. Because *he* had been too weak. Because he hadn't held on, and had killed Jenna.   
  
Her face still haunted him in his dreams. Her eyes closed, a small trickle of blood down her forehead--- she hadn't screamed. But she might as well had.   
  
He stood up, drained. Both physically, after his battle with the Banshee, and emotionally, after the battle with his heart. He tried to speak, tried to make her understand---  
  
"Stay away from me. Just stay away".   
  
He tried again, just for the sake of hearing her name...  
  
"Phoebe...".   
  
Phoebe struggled to keep her face straight. Gods, every time he said her name--- he practically purred it!. How was a woman supposed to fight that?. She needed him, and yet, she couldn't let him touch her. She *knew* that the second his warmth reached her, she would be lost. She would fall into his embrace--- and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that just yet.   
  
"I don't wanna hear it, Cole".   
  
Maybe, just maybe, if he stopped talking, she could concentrate. She could remember why she so mad at him in the first place. Maybe, if she stopped looking at her with those smoldering blue eyes, she would recover the lost ground.   
  
"Yeah, you do. You're not the only one hurting here. We both are. That's why we're drawn into this mess. I tried to deny it too, I tried everything to break my feelings for you, even magic. But nothing works".  
  
His voice--- his deep, rumbling voice--- her knees went weak just by the thought of it. She still refused to give in. She was strong. She was a Charmed One, damnit!. How could she have fallen into such a spell as love?.   
  
"It doesn't change anything".   
  
Jenna is still dead. Our love must die with her. We were never meant to be. Never. And now we're being punished because of it. Because we dared to defy the Powers, the very foundations of Good and Evil... we will die of broken hearts because of it.   
  
"No, it doesn't. It doesn't change the fact that I killed a witch. Even if I was tricked into doing it".  
  
Through the haze of self-flagellation she was going through, his words registered. And a tiny flicker of hope ignited in her heart.   
  
"What do you mean?".   
  
"Forget it, it doesn't matter".   
  
Cole had never wanted for her to know. She was finished with him. She had made *that* point clear, back in the attic that fateful night. And Belthazor was not one to beg. Yet, it had slipped. And he had seen as her eyes light up, at the thought of redemption. He wasn't sure if *he* was ready to be forgiven.   
  
No matter how hard he tried to tell himself it had been his demonic side the one to fire the energy ball, it was no good. Cole had attacked too. And Cole and Belthazor were one... as far as he was concerned.   
  
He turned his back on her, trying to forget her beauty, her innocence--- damnit, Phoebe, let it go!.  
  
"Yeah, well, maybe it matters to *me*!".   
  
The bitterness in her voice made him turn around. And the spark of anger in her eyes, was more than he could bear. He sometimes forgot she was a powerful witch, not just another woman. And that she could handle much more than he gave her credit for.   
  
It came out in a rush, before he could stop himself.   
  
"Raynor cast a spell. He made me kill her against my will".  
  
I swear Phoebe, I didn't mean to!. I tried to stop him!. But Raynor... Raynor was my mentor. He knew me better that I know myself. He knew what buttons to push, what words to say... he was always able to sugar coat things into shapes they never bore. And I fell for it!.   
  
Phoebe was still suspicious. Demons turning against demons?. It wasn't as farfetched as it seemed... she had seen more back-stabbing in the human world than she needed to. It was obvious that demons were even worse. Yet she still asked, wanting, *needing* an answer.   
  
"And why would he do that?".  
  
"Because he wanted to turn me. And he knew the only way to do that was to destroy the one thing that was keeping me good. He knew that my killing a witch would destroy your faith in me. And he was right".  
  
The realization came to her like a bucket of ice cold water. Raynor was indeed right. She had fallen into his devil plan, and rejected Cole when he needed her the most. Hell, she had probably pushed him right into evil's way!.   
  
And yet, here he was, saving her. *Again*. He had reached her inside the Banshee's body, and pulled her back out. He had saved her, when all she had done was push him away!. Who was the evil one in this relationship, anyway?.   
  
Her faith in him... her faith in him had been destroyed and mended back together much too quickly. She believed him. She truly did. She just didn't trust herself. Not around him, anyway.   
  
"I don't know what to say".   
  
When he approached her this time, she did not move. Not backwards, and yet not forward to meet him either. She was much too fragile to do anything right now. When his strong hand came up, and softly cupped her cheek, it was out of habit she leaned onto it.   
  
Time seemed to stop, as the Witch and the Demon battled their own inner demons. Cole wanted nothing more than to hug her. To thank her, to cherish her, to love her... but he knew he shouldn't push his luck. Phoebe would probably bolt if he tried anything beyond cheek caressing.   
  
Phoebe wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms. But something held her back. Doubt, hesitation, fear--- but for herself. She doubted she would ever emerge from his embrace if she *did* go in, and her sisters were probably around. And would not be thrilled if they found her in the arms of Jenna's murderer.   
  
Hesitation, because she wasn't sure he would accept her. Cole had a dark past, but she somehow believed no other event had ever affected him so.   
  
And fear, because if he rejected her, she knew she would crumble. She was too broken to be mended again. One little wrong move, and she would break for the last time.   
  
"There's nothing to say. Like you said, it doesn't change the fact that I did it, or that we'll always love each other. I guess it's a pain we both have to live with".  
  
You love me?. You still love me?. Phoebe's heart soared in happiness, and she tried to kiss him... but his eyes locked her in her spot. They were sad, and bitter, and looking straight into her.   
  
Before she could utter words of love, he shimmered away.   
  
And she was left alone, and wanting... needing to tell him she loved him, she treasured him, and most of all--- she forgave him.   
  
  
  
****************************  
  
  
The End. 


End file.
